


purblind

by IantheAbyssWatchingCactus



Series: muleta [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, POV Third Person Limited, Pre-RWBY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17762885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IantheAbyssWatchingCactus/pseuds/IantheAbyssWatchingCactus
Summary: Adam doesn't open his left eye.





	purblind

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small Adam-centered fic I decided to write on a whim. One of my first writings, hope it holds up decently well!

Adam never opened his left eye. 

It wasn’t as if it was completely blind, he was aware of that, but what did it avail him? It felt as though every time he opened that horrid eye, he only saw that night. Only felt that night.

An iron grip pinned his wrists as he helplessly squirmed, the sight soon to betray him revealing a trio of backwards initials distorted by the waves of heat emanating off the iron with an orange hue. Then, the forceful black out of his vision as the vicious sensation of what seemed like a thousand suns violated every pain receptor located near his left eye - finally followed by the hideous screams that he let out when his body finally understood what was being done to it.

It took nearly a year for the brand to heal completely. The SDC employees made sure to take good care of their handiwork, albeit roughly, as they applied a multitude of disinfectants and antibiotic ointments to keep his wound from getting infected, and by extension hampering his productivity. Bandages were hastily wrapped around his head, done so in a manner that partially obstructed the vision of his right eye as well. He kept it that way, however, as any attempts to move the bandages resulted in a sharp assault of pain to the eye that was now ruined.

He didn’t remember much from his time in the Dust Mines of Atlas, most of it either being forgotten, or in the much more common case, forcefully repressed. But he always remembered that feeling. What they did to him. What they made him.

He thought if he kept the eye closed, he wouldn’t have to feel it anymore, wouldn’t have to revisit that moment. He was wrong, of course, as it always followed him - influencing the things he did, subconsciously maybe, but just as noticeably anyway.

For example, he often kept his left eye covered, even to this day. The mask he created, the symbol of the monsters that mankind had labelled him and the rest of his ilk as, did a wonderful job of blocking people from the sight of his disfigured skin. Even when this wasn’t the case, which wasn’t often in any scenario, he made a habit of wrapping a simple black ribbon around his head in a diagonal fashion, angled at just the right point to hide their “gift” to him. 

In truth, while he naturally hid the scar to mask his inner repulsiveness from others, it was partially done to keep himself under lock and key. Every time he opened that eye, every time he was struck by that pain and those memories, he felt himself looking at the world in a darker light. One of a harsh, red-filmed gaze - barely able to make out distinctive shapes, a tacit brandishing of the ugliness of the world.

A desire, almost, struck him. A craving. A yearning to to infect others with that pain. To inflict that horrid vision upon those that forced it unto him, on those who just watched it happen, on those who allowed it to happen. After all, an eye for an eye still avails the world an eye to see. Often times, he would awake in a cold sweat, overcome by that burning impulse to return his suffering to the people who forced him to endure it-

But then, there was that light. The beacon from shadows, the one that formed a new mask for him, one of comfort. A mask that did not hide his ugliness, but embraced his beauty, that understood his sorrow. For so many years, he could always rely on it, no matter what mistakes he made, what things he said that he didn’t mean. The light understood that. The light understood everything.

But even the brightest lights fade out one day, and despite his impaired vision, he could see that better than one would think. He saw as it flickered, fading for brief seconds every so often. Soon enough, the flickering grew less sporadic and more consistent, and no matter what he did, it did not cease its progress.

And one day, the light went out completely.

Adam opened his left eye.


End file.
